


unbearable

by refectory



Series: The Binding [2]
Category: The Binding - Bridget Collins
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don't copy to another site, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i do what i like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/refectory/pseuds/refectory
Summary: If it's unbearable, feel free to . . . er . . . deal with it. Quietly.





	unbearable

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own anything! Bridget don't sue it's just handjobs!

 

 

> I could feel the tension running through him.
> 
> His hand was burning through my shirt, right over my heart. When I undressed tonight I'd find the print of it on my skin. No, that was idiotic. I tried to think of something cool – cold water, ice – but even with my eyes fixed on the ceiling all I saw was the fine sheen of moisture on Darnay's forehead, the dampness of his shirt-collar.
> 
> I dug my fingernails into my palms as hard as I could. I thought about the peeling plaster, the scrolls of paint that hung like parchment. I counted the chipped roses that garlanded the cornice – one, two, three-fourfivesix–
> 
> But it was no good. I could feel the heat pooling in my groin, a familiar, delightful ache at the pit of my stomach. I bit the tip of my tongue until my mouth tasted of salt. But the blood pulsed, harder and harder until I was tingling all over and weak at the knees. My body was betraying me, whatever I did. I swallowed, more loudly than I meant to, and Darnay shifted to look at me. I didn't meet his eyes. If only he'd step back. If only he wasn't so close to me.
> 
> Maybe he wouldn't notice.
> 
> I was blushing, my skin as hot as sunburn. If only he'd stop _looking_ at me.
> 
> He leant sideways, so that his mouth brushed my earlobe. ‘Are you getting excited, Farmer?’
> 
> I wanted to die. Right here and now. I wanted the floor to collapse, killing all four of us. I kept my eyes on the ceiling and pretended I hadn't heard.
> 
> ‘If it's unbearable,’ he murmured, as intimate as a voice inside my head, ‘feel free to . . . er . . . deal with it. Quietly.’
> 
> ‘Shut up.’
> 
> ‘Would you like a hand?’
> 
> ‘Go to hell, Darnay.’

 

 

In spite of myself I glanced at him. He was laughing silently, his forehead pressed against the wall. After a moment he caught my eye and winked. I'm not sure if it was the animalistic wet sounds or his smile or both, but the sight of Darnay laughing did not make it easier to stand. His ribcage dug into me and I took hold of his shoulder, digging into the space between his bones. _Quit it_. He twisted again, still grinning at me, mocking me, daring me – to do _what_? Hitting him would be too noisy.

I cast my mind back to its task of not being here. I thought of innocuous things; cracked slates we read from at school instead of books, my rubber boot that I needed to replace, for goodness’ sake, I even thought of _plants_ – only, garlands made me think of pinning wreaths to the wall for Turning Eve, which made me think of Darnay, again, who was giving off heat like an open flame against me. I was not helping myself. My problem wasn't going away.

I swallowed past a huge lump of dryness. My blood was alive with the need to move, so I shifted a little, hoping that movement would distract me. Darnay went rigid; I'd – er – rubbed – against his leg.

Could he feel my jackrabbit pulse against his palm? It was the least of my worries, but focusing on all the wrong things could be my way out of this dreadful interaction without ruining my life. It was getting harder to ignore my body; the ceiling couldn't capture my attention like Darnay.

He glanced at me, all humor gone from his face. ‘I didn't take you for the type,’ He said, but his eyes were dark and I was too wound up to accept the out he'd graciously given me.

Perannon's maybe-fake maybe-not grunting grew to a wail. I ignored her, or tried to, but the noise kept me present, which kept me from looking away from Darnay. He was so close I had trouble making out his features.

‘Farmer,’ He looked at my face carefully. ‘I wasn't kidding.’

‘I'm _not_ the type,’ I hissed through my teeth.

‘No, not that. I know you aren't. I meant earlier. If you can't stand it–’

‘Yeah? I wasn't kidding either. Shut up, Darnay.’

We were quiet. The urge to laugh and give ourselves away was no longer an issue; whatever it was between us wasn't youthful humor anymore. I'd fucked it all up by being – by having a stupid body that wouldn't obey when I told it to hush up. I didn't know how to face Darnay after this. Chaperoning him and Alta would be insufferable, seeing his face every day and wondering if he was laughing to himself at my immaturity and hair trigger. Darnay had the control of a saint. His aristocratic hands never strayed beyond proper zones. I'd thought it before, watching Alta and Darnay and it came to mind now– _brotherly_.

This wasn't brotherly.

This was uncomfortable, not because Darnay wasn't . . . but because he _was_. Perannon Cooper was whoring herself out. It was a free show, and all my senses zeroed in on Lucian fucking Darnay. I wanted to move again, chase the thrill that sang through my body when I pressed down. I breathed in deeply and slowly until the pathetic urge passed.

Lord Archimbolt said, ‘Oh, you naughty, naughty girl – that'll teach you – ugh – yes –’ and I felt sane again, like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head.

His creaky voice batted away the haze in my head long enough for me to open my eyes (when did I close them?) and check for Darnay's reaction.

Instead of arrogance or mockery, Darnay's expression was mostly hidden from me. His forehead pressed against the wall. His eyebrows were stitched together like he was pissed off. The pressure on my front eased; he’d angled himself away. Typical behavior from him. I could assume it was to spare myself the embarrassment, but he'd smile if that were the case. I once thought Darnay's face was cast for sneering, and it was, but over winter he'd been introduced to laughter and seemed to enjoy it. He would laugh this off if it was about me. I knew that as well as my own name.

However, he always took himself too serious.

Anticipation made my hands sweat. I rubbed them against the clock-case to get myself under control. ‘Darnay,’ I whispered.

His shoulders went up. ‘What?’

‘Will you . . .’ Perannon Cooper and Lord Archimbolt could have reached their dramatic climax by now; I was deaf to all sounds that weren't from Darnary's lips. ‘Are you . . .’

A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘Are you stuttering, Farmer?’

‘You're still touching me.’

He was. His hand was against my chest from when he slammed me into the wall. ‘Sorry,’ Darnay huffed. I caught his wrist before he could move. No, I didn't want it to go. I'd collapse if he wasn't holding me up.

‘I didn't say stop.’

‘What do you– Farmer, I'm getting mixed signals.’

Yeah, that was because I wasn't even sure what I wanted. Dismissing it as impersonal could work – a stiff breeze could get me going and Darnay was a step-up. It could be any body. But it wouldn't be this intense with a stranger in the dark. It was Darnay. If I closed my eyes and tried to substitute him with someone else, the featureless face would morph into a young man with dark eyes and dark hair and impractical, polished boots.

Words weren't my specialty. I always said the wrong things. So I acted instead, grabbed Darnary by the hem of his expensive white shirt and drew him back to me. He stifled a noise when I shoved my leg between his. Darnay was in the exact same situation as me, which was a relief and a little bit of something else. It made me want to stand taller. I wondered if this was how Alta felt when Darnay danced with her – like she could move mountains – then remember that Darnay danced with me too.

I could answer my own question: _Yes_.

I exhaled dramatically, unable to stop myself – the pressure took the edge off. I could _think_ again. It was a meaningless babble of _more – harder – please –_

That one.

‘Darnay, please.’

He puts his head on my shoulder, soft hands that hadn't worked for a living gripping my biceps with surprising strength. 'They're gone. You don't have to whisper.’

Whisper? Who was whispering? I made sure my voice was clearer – ‘Can you . . . How serious were you about helping me out?’

He huffed, a little amused. A pointed nudge of his hips almost sent my eyes rolling back. I was in awe of how sensitive I was. ‘At this point it would be entirely mutual, Farmer.’

‘Then–’

‘Yeah,’ he said, instead of something mocking that'd stir my pride and knock some sense back into me. He rocked forward hesitantly, then froze when I choked back a moan. ‘Shit, yeah, okay–’ And he moved without reservation.

 _God_.

Everywhere we were touching – and it _was_ everywhere – felt like electricity in my blood. When my knees failed to hold me up a moment longer, Darnay just put more of his weight against me. Yes. I scrabbled for purchase. I slipped under his shirt. _Yes._ Darnay's pale skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat; I had to dig in with my nails to stay there, which luckily he didn't mind in the slightest, if his hitched breathing was an indication.

It was a lot, it was relentless, and I wasn't going to last long. I hadn't done this before – I couldn't believe I was doing it with _Darnay_ – and wasn't completely sure how to go on without it. How did I last my teenage years alone? Darnay's chafing cotton pants bested everything else by miles. It was a steady intense climb of pure feeling. There was a peak, I knew, and the closer I came to it the more I wished it would never arrive –

I had to do something.

‘Stop me if you don't want it,’ I said breathlessly. Darnay's stomach was concave; you'd think someone who could afford to eat well would make a point of it. I'd left scratch marks all over his torso, front and back. Where he's gripping me would have bruises. It was fair and square.

‘Darnay – listen – if you don't want me to–’

‘Just _do it_ , dear God. Do you need a handwritten invitation?’ He panted. His grinding was gradually losing rhythm. He'd been careful to keep his hands in one place, as if moving them would be crossing a line, even though I could literally feel his cock twitching in his trousers whenever he lined up with mine. I wanted to be clear that the unspoken distance he'd put between us was unnecessary. I wanted more. If it was Darnay, it was okay.

‘Stop me,’ I growled – waiting for his nod against my neck – before I shoved my hand down his pants.

‘ _Fuck._ ’

‘We good?’ I pushed, not moving my hand an inch until he gave any indication–

He was a mess against my neck, moaning at a fever pitch that made my ears burn. I wanted to check over his shoulder to make sure we alone, but doing that would require looking away from him. I'd stopped attempting the impossible. _If Splotch is nearby she'd definitely come out for this,_ I thought idly, kind of unhinged, and resisted the oddest urge to laugh. Darnay's fingers were finally prying themselves off my arms; only to flutter around awkwardly, the idiot.

‘Darnay.’

‘Did I say no?’ Darnay snapped, thrusting up into my dry palm. His dick was wet enough that I didn't need to spit.

I gave in, laughing breathlessly, ‘I haven't even done anything yet,’ I said. Moving mountains? I could do that. Easy peasy.

Meanwhile, Darnay solved the mystery of what to do with his hands. One went under my shirt, surprisingly gentle, trailing goosebumps where his fingertips brushed across my lower stomach. The other went to my jaw, cupping it, before he turned my face up and pressed his lips to the hollow of my neck. He started dry, a shy kiss, then dragged his tongue up to my ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth. I jolted in surprise, jaw dropping open, barely remembering to keep my hand moving on his dick while Darnay nibbled and sucked.

 _‘Um_ – that's a little – ‘

‘Feels good, right?’ He asked, although the certainty made me feel like I didn't have to answer. It was an odd thought. Had Darnay done this before? With someone else? I decided I hated the thought of it. Darnay in Castleford, dressed in a grey suit, his tie undone and someone else's hands messing up his stupid hair–

I jerked him off hoping he wouldn't be able to stand anyone else touching him after me. I wanted to ruin him for others, a possessive thought that I tried to banish; but it stuck. I liked Darnay. We were – friends. But not brothers. Probably not friends either, actually, because I hadn't particularly wanted to get Jameson Jones off with my mouth before.

Darnay was shamelessly loud for the handful – ha – of seconds it took for him to finish. I barely had time to consider the strangely familiar feeling of someone else's cum seeping out between my knuckles when Darnay took my face and crushed our mouths together. It was tongue and teeth and heat, and he kissed like we weren't going to see each other again. He pulled back at one point, barely managed to get back a breath before I chased him. I didn't want to stop. But there was a pressing need I had to get out of the way.

Darnay felt my elbow brushing against him, saw my arm moving, and took a beat to ask, ‘Are you–?’

‘Shut _up_.’

‘Farmer– wait, _Emmett_ –’

Embarrassingly, because it clearly wasn't his intention, my name in his posh Castleford accent sent me over the edge. I might as well have punched him in the nose, he looked _that_ surprised. And cheated. ‘I didn't get to–’

He didn't finish his sentence. My heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. Lord Archimbolt and Perannon Cooper were long gone. Not even the scent of Lord Archimbolt’s sweet smoke lingered. It was me and Darnay and this sudden new secret between us. We couldn't tell anyone. My family thought Darnay was going to propose to Alta. It was never going to happen. I got it then; it wasn't for my sister that Darnay hung around the farm. If he wanted in her bed, he'd have done it already. Just like he did with me.

Although, that was mostly my fault.

I covered my face. ‘Alta is going to hate me.’

‘ _Alta_?’ Darnay sounded offended. ‘After that – you're thinking of _Alta_?’

‘She wants to marry you.’

‘That isn't going to happen,’ He told me. He looked at my hand, which was dripping onto the flagstones some pretty damning evidence that Alta wasn't his type.

‘She'll be heartbroken!’

‘Farmer,’ Darnay looked incredulous, then, interestingly, like nothing at all. He had a talent for making himself impossible to read. It was such a skill to use right now, when I most needed to understand him. ‘I suppose you don't want to do this again.’

Even his voice was ironed flat. ‘Are you running away?’ I snappped.

‘Are _you_?’

I pursed my lips. He never loved Alta. I knew that from the beginning. This – it really wouldn't change anything. She was destined for heartbreak from the start. It didn't make me feel a whole lot better, but I also knew I didn't want to walk away from Darnay. I wasn't capable.

Shadows left from his dark eyes. Darnay swallowed loudly. ‘You want this too.’ His swollen lips trembled as he bit back a grin.

‘For as long as we can have it,’ I murmured, and I want to hold his hand. But mine was . . . I wiped it on his shirt, ignoring his expression; his shirt was white, the stain won't be as obvious. I sighed, exhausted by the thinking and the feeling, and see it reflected in Darnay as well. More than that, though, he looked ravished. If anyone older than eleven laid eyes on him they'd know exactly what he'd been up to.

I laughed at his hair. It stuck up at the front from when he pushed it against my shoulder. I patted it down and said, ‘We need to clean up, Darnay.’

He blinked. ‘You have a hickey.’

I slapped my hand over my neck. ‘What?!’

How was I going to explain that to Mama and Pa?

He waited until I went red before allowing his poker face to split in half; he was laughing at me. ‘Kidding, kidding! You're unmarked, Farmer!’ He brushed his knuckles on my cheek casually; as if that wouldn't do things to me. He carried on walking to the stairs, before pausing, gasping. I worried for a second he'd managed to hurt himself when he exclaimed: ‘Oh no. We have to find Splotch!’

Splotch? I struggled to pin the name.  _Oh._ The dog who'd gone sprinting off. We were supposed to be searching for her. I felt like laughing again, resisting as an act of mercy to the self-loathing on Darnary's face. He looked miserable.

‘I . . . forgot.’

‘So did I!’ Like that Darnay took off into a sprint. I followed at a slower pace, letting him turn into a single white shirt swallowed by overgrown greens.

His voice rang out across the forest: ‘Splotch! Splotch! Come here, you cur!’

It's sweet. I couldn't say why, but watching him run around like a headless chicken amused me. A distant bark was heard, and Lucian’s voice reached a volume unheard of.

‘You _dumb dog!_ Come here!’

We'd be a secret. Truthfully I didn't really mind. I realized I was happy with what I could get.

**Author's Note:**

> wow baby's first smut and it's for a fanfiction fandom i started


End file.
